Angelus Sol Solis
by theLastBLACK17
Summary: PostOotP, AU, no ref to HBP.DHr.MadEye Moody returns with plans to train students from the 6th and 7th years as Aurors. Only a select number of students can train with Moody. So the question is, who are the candidates? How will Harry fight the Dark side?
1. Moody's Proposition

**ANGELUS SOL SOLIS**

**UPDATE: Edited.**

Chapter One

**Moody's Proposition**

The Order of the Phoenix were sitting around the large dining table at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, deciding what they would be doing next in the war against Lord Voldemort. The loss of Sirius Black had been a tremendous blow to the Order as he had been one of the bravest and loyal men they had ever known.

"First, we need to discuss Harry Potter's guardianship," came the steady voice of Albus Dumbledore, "it is vital that he has someone, at least, to go to in his times of need."

Molly Weasley caught Dumbledore's eye, and opened her mouth to speak.

"It is kind of you to volunteer to be Harry's guardians," began Dumbledore, "but it would not be fair of us to leave you to carry the task of guardianship alone. It would be best if Harry's guardian were to be at school."

The others nodded in assent, agreeing each in his or her own heart that the guardianship of Harry Potter was not one of the most pressing matters in the war, but nevertheless, still carried enormous emotional and psychological significance.

"And what are we going to do about recruiting more Aurors for our side?" asked Alastor Moody's gruff voice.

"We can't do much more than train those who are willing to train, and to spread the word to all the loyal families on our side, in addition to friends from the old crew," replied Dumbledore at length, "we cannot do more than to alert people of Voldemort's resurgence, and that in itself is a hard task to follow, given that the Ministry is unwilling to co-operate."

Many people cringed at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. Even though they were the strongest people selected to fight against the dark side, the name still invoked an unpleasant spine-tingling fear in their hearts.

"No," said Moody, his electric blue eye swiveling a full 360 degrees, "we have to do more. Much more."

"More?" asked Tonks skeptically, her bubblegum pink hair changing gradually to a paler shade, "What more are we expected to do?"

"Oh, much more," began Moody definitively. He stood up, immediately gaining the full attention of the table.

"We have to start training those at Hogwarts with the intuition and capability to become Aurors for our side. We will start by selecting candidates who are in the sixth and seventh years. The others will be too young, and will become traumatized if called for action."

Gasps of shock spread around the table with the speed of an Australian bush fire.

"You're mad," declared McGonagall, "Moody… this is outrageous. These are children that are _barely_ sixteen that you want to train! They will be traumatized immediately, never mind the younger students… "

"Are they not capable of such a feat?" retorted Moody, his hand waving about as he spoke, "There are certainly plenty of students who can rise to the challenge easily enough with the proper amount of help and guidance. There are many candidates that I can name… even now… who would be perfect for this."

McGonagall looked around indignantly at Dumbledore, as if to ask for support against the absurdity of starting Auror training with sixteen year olds.

"They're a bit young to be training for… war… at such a young age," observed Lupin, scratching his chin stubble pensively.

Each member considered the merits and disadvantages of training underage witches and wizards as Aurors, and there was a distinct line of opposition.

"Professor, er, sir," said Fred Weasley, unsure as to how he should now be addressing Dumbledore, "wouldn't you have a bit of a problem with parental consent? I'm sure you would get excellent potential Aurors whose parents would sniffle at the idea of the war…"

"Yeah, it'd be like the whole thing with the secret Army again," reflected George, leaning on the back two legs of his chair.

Pressing his fingers together, Dumbledore said, "I understand all your points. And I think we should consider making a compromise on these matters. It is critical that we aim to band together as many students as possible for potential Auror training. Their age will not be of great concern as it is only a short matter of time before most of them would become of age. Having said this, we still have to consider the further complication of ensuring both their and their parents' loyalties and consent. We must not force students to do what they do not want to do. This will whittle down the candidacy to a very select few. Then it is from there that we will proceed with mentoring etcetera."

McGonagall sighed inwardly at the thought of preparing young students for the war, even if they were only a select number of pupils who would be participating.

"Now that that's settled, what are we going to do about Harry's guardians?" asked Molly Weasley, very much concerned.

"At the moment, I think that the best thing to do is to share the guardianship," replied Dumbledore. "I plan to appoint the Weasleys, Minerva and myself as his official guardians, to give him the most help and guidance that he deserves, poor boy…"

When the meeting of the Order had ended, all the members filed into the kitchen for a light snack and a drink. Mrs Weasley was walking out with a particularly happy smile on her face.

"Albus," said Moody confidently, to which Dumbledore responded with an attentive nod, "This _can_ work, and I have a pretty good idea of the lucky students I will be mentoring."

"Yes, of course."

"Harry will assume extra education and guidance from you?" asked Moody.

"That's right."

Moody paused, his magical eye moving diabolically quickly.

"Just checking that those Weasley kids aren't eavesdropping," he muttered. Dumbledore chuckled knowingly.

Moody stood closer to Dumbledore anyway, apparently unsatisfied with the information that his magical eye had supplied him.

"What are we to do about our, spy's ward?" he whispered.

"Offer protection when and where it is necessary, and include the child in the training programme, provided he meets the criteria," came the headmaster's quick reply.

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**_Now it would be nice if you all reviewed this! _**


	2. Intempestus Nox

**ANGELUS SOL SOLIS**

Chapter Two

**Intempestus Nox (Unreasonable Night)**

Hermione Granger stepped into the house, turning to wave at her Muggle friends who had given her a lift home from the centre of town. The darkness of the house surprised her. It was only a quarter to ten, which meant that her parents ought to have been still awake, watching the news as they always did.

"I'm home," she called, putting her bag down by the shoe rack.

Perhaps they had gone to bed early. Still, there was an unsettling eeriness in the atmosphere. Hermione tiptoed into the living room with the intention of catching the hourly news. She shut the door behind her to stop the noise from disturbing her parents if they were asleep. As the door clicked shut, strong arms grabbed her in a vice-like grip. Her scream was muffled with a simple '_Silencio_'.

_"Lumos."_

The sight before Hermione caused her to struggle more against her restrictive captor. She wanted to do anything, anything to stop the haunting bewildered looks in her parents' eyes. A semi-circle of Death Eaters surrounded them, each with a white mask over their faces.

_You evil bastards_, thought Hermione, her fists clenching in her frustration at being helpless. If only there was some way that she could free her parents, maybe a non-verbal protective shield that she could perform. Something… anything.

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward, pointing the wand directly between the eyes of Hermione's mother. With the other hand, the Death Eater removed his mask, a split second before a jet of green light hit Mrs Granger squarely in the face, so that the poor woman caught a glimpse of her executor. Mr Granger's face turned pale in horror and fear, tears cascading down his cheeks as his lifeless wife slumped beside him. He tried turning to his daughter for help, but was killed instantly by the same person who had killed his wife.

Hermione's blood curdled as she saw the triumphant sneer in the Death Eater's eyes. An overwhelming emotion surged within Hermione at the shock of witnessing her parents' deaths. The feeling was indescribable, an immense giant of passion threatening her sense of logic. The electrical surge pulsed through her veins, and finally, the sheer power of her anger broke the magical bonds of silence around her vocal chords.

"How dare you?" she yelled, her face livid with anger, bottled up from years of bullying at the hands of wizards considering themselves superior to her. The harsh volume of her voice took the person who was restraining her by surprise, and unrestrained, Hermione strode up to the one who had just murdered both her parents, uncaring, or unaware of the fact that she was powerless against the Death Eaters without her wand.

"They were innocent! They did nothing to you!" she shouted, her voice becoming hoarse. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to bring justice to the looming Death Eater in front of her.

"Foolish Mudblood," tutted the cold voice of another Death Eater, whose wand was drawn out.

It was only then, when the wand was inches from her face that the sick realization of certain death dawned on Hermione. Afraid of the murderers, yet quite unwilling to just give up, she cast her strongest glares at the Death Eaters closing in around her.

Panic. The Death Eaters raised their wands.

"You're next," said another, pointing the wand menacingly at her face.

Too frightened to scream, Hermione looked at the Death Eater in fright. Instinctively, she shielded her face with her arms. The Death Eaters laughed at her pathetic attempt to protect herself from a curse.

"Save me," she pleaded, to no one in particular, "I've done nothing wrong."

The Death Eater removed her mask, grinning menacingly.

_Oh my God_, thought Hermione, feeling the inevitability of death edge ever closer.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" shouted Bellatrix Lestrange.

The jet of green light, aimed as such would normally have killed instantly. Light emitted from the body of Hermione Granger. The increasing brightness of this light was so bright that looking at Hermione was equivalent to being blinded by the brightest midday sun. The burning intensity of the white-hot light reflected the green jet, killing Bellatrix Lestrange instantaneously. The remaining Death Eaters screamed her name, and frightened by the power of this energy source, they Apparated away as quickly as they could without waiting to release the Dark Mark over the house.

Several hours later, the light was still being emitted from Hermione's body with as much intensity as there had been initially. The light was so strong that the house itself looked like a beacon of light from far away. Intrigued by the phenomenon he had just seen, Hermione Granger's original captor stayed rooted to the spot, uncertain of whether the girl inside the ethereal ball of light was alive or dead.

The young captor was unsure of what to do. He had come here by Side-Apparition with Bellatrix Lestrange. Now, she lay dead, and the other Death Eaters had vanished without one notion of concern for him. If he was caught loitering at the house, people would connect two and two together, albeit wrongly, and he would be accused of something he did not do. He was half desperate to leave the house, but his admiration at the girl's courage nagged at him to stay. The little compassion that he had in him surfaced made the possibility of a false criminal conviction seem insignificant. The important thing was that the girl, whatever state she was currently in, would become safe.

So he sat, and he waited for the authorities to come. He had a lot of time to contemplate what he had just seen. He hated to admit it, but the emotional whirlwind that the girl had gone through was incredible. And the fact that she had even conjured the psychological strength to face the wrath of her parents' murderers was amazing, considering what they thought of her lineage.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed two times.

How long would he have to wait? The thought of being caught by the Ministry frightened him. They would take him away, lock him up, and feed him to the Dementors. There would be a heinous criminal conviction on his record that would be false.

He shuddered, despite the thickness of the robes that he wore. He moved closer, peering over the ball of light. Some warmth radiated from this energy source, from the girl. He rummaged around, looking for something tinted to protect his eyes with.

There was nothing. He quickly ran into the next room, found the light switch. Hurriedly, he opened the cabinets and took out a glass plate.

_"Colorantio,"_ he muttered. The clear glass darkened instantly.

He took the plate back into the living room, and holding it in front of his eyes, proceeded to examine the ball of light. When he squinted, he could just see the outline of the girl's body.

Glancing around, he tentatively tried to touch the girl, but the heat was so intense that he had to draw his hand back in pain. Thinking quickly, he put a heat-repelling charm onto his arm, and tried to touch the girl again.

"Get away from the dead people," barked a voice from behind him, "you _filthy _murderer… we've caught you now."

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**I hated the ending of that chapter. It was absolutely rubbish. Did anyone notice the 'Pearl Harbor' quote that I put in there? hehehe... Also, I was watching the lastest Atlantis Disney film the other day, and drew the inspiration for Hermione-the-light-ball from the idea in there where the girl becomes infused with the energy source of Atlantis. Watch it... it's quite inspiring... **

**Thanks go to: **

Takarameri

**Angharad Marared Rhodri Gwynedd**

**Jasmine-Signet**

**Wilden Fraulein**

**Mistress of Eternity**

**Fain Oakenbringer**

**Please review! **


	3. Goddess of Imaginary Light

**ANGELUS SOL SOLIS**

Chapter Three Goddess of Imaginary Light

**Disclaimer: the name of the title is taken from the song _Imaginary_ by Evanescence**

* * *

"Caught you red-handed this time, haven't we?" jeered the voice behind him.

"Three accounts of murder," muttered another voice, "three accounts of murder for the young Death Eater Draco Malfoy."

_Three_ accounts of murder? Three black marks on his innocent slate? How could this have… the injustice of it all was enough to boil anyone's blood. These Ministry fools made great assumptions, and were willing to tarnish his so-far clean reputation without fair trial or equality in the eyes of the law.

What were they, _barbarians?_

"Expelliarmus," shouted the Auror, taking advantage of the young man's shock.

The force of the spell startled Draco, causing him to drop the tinted glass plate on the floor. It shattered into several pieces at his feet.

"Turn around at once with your hands in the air!" barked another Auror imperiously.

It was outrageous that they were treating him like a criminal when he had done nothing wrong. But he was outnumbered _and _wandless, there was nothing he could do.

As he turned around, he felt a prickling sensation on his skin, tingling heat pulsing through his body. Now he stood there, hands in the air, looking the complete idiot. He could feel sweat beads forming on his back, dampening his robes.

An Auror looked peered around his body at the great ball of light behind him. He could just make out the form of a human body, glowing strands of hair floating about.

"And do we add this to your list of convictions?" he asked sarcastically, indicating the ball of light behind Draco, "still an account of murder, I suspect, but tell me… how did your sick, twisted little mind come up with the idea of killing someone and then elongating the burning of their body afterwards?"

Draco glared at his accuser scornfully. It was so pathetic how they were determined to pin him down to some criminal act, even if the accusation came out sounding excruciatingly illogical. How pathetic of them to make assumptions without investigating and confirming the facts. Draco just knew that there must have been some kind of procedure that the Aurors could have used to determine whether it was his wand that had been the source of the murdering magic.

"Give him a taste of his own medicine," sneered the first Auror.

Another Auror emerged, grinning manically. His robes were seemingly clean. Not shabby, nor posh like Draco's own robes, but comfortably clean. The light from this Auror's wand illuminated his face, creating a menacing chiaroscuro effect.

"Let me do it," he growled, eagerly, "Long have I awaited this day, this moment. Ever since your father murdered my beloved wife and twin daughters… ever since that day… long have I been waiting for this."

"Who are you?" asked Draco, eyes widening in shock. He did not know whether his plan to ask persistent questions would make a difference between his life and death.

"I'll not indulge you," replied the Auror, whispering in a deranged manner, his eyes relishing the fantasy of murdering the boy for himself, his eyes gleaming at the thought of how close he was to revenging his darling Kitty, Kimberley, and Maria.

---

Somewhere in the neighborhood outside the house, several pops announced the arrival of a select band of the Order.

"I hope we're in time," whispered Tonks, afraid. She walked forwards, wand in front of her, striding to keep up with Dumbledore and Lupin.

Although she was only a few houses away, Tonks put out the light from her wand. The strong white-blue light emanating from the house had already attracted many people from the surrounding houses, but they found that they could not perpetrate. Perhaps an anti-Muggle charm had been placed around it.

"I'll deal with the Muggles," said Moody from behind. Tonks relayed the message to Dumbledore, who nodded in thanks.

Lupin reserved his thoughts for himself. They had received a hurried message from Kingsley Shacklebolt fifteen minutes before by means of a special paging device. The message had been very disjointed, and had come in spurts with a few minutes' wait in between, as if Kingsley Shacklebolt had been observing the danger to decide whether or not it was drastic enough for an emergency squad to be brought in.

Dumbledore… danger at Granger home… white ball… emanating light… human within… unsure… dead or alive… Malfoy caught… Tuckley… going insane… bent… on revenge…

---

"Something you'll be familiar with," muttered the Auror, who, to Draco seemed to be going slightly mental. He wondered to himself what the discipline was like within the Auror department now. It did not seem to be very secure.

"Tuckley!" shouted one of the other Aurors.

Choosing to ignore him, or perhaps really too focused on revenge, Tuckley raised his wand anyway.

"Crucio!"

The Unforgivable Curse shot Draco with pain that he had never known. Screaming, he shut his eyes tightly in pain.

---

Dumbledore pushed the door forcefully in time to see and hear young Draco Malfoy being struck with the Cruciatus. His first priority was to get to the boy and stop the curse, but the next thing he knew, the incredible happened.

The figure of light behind Malfoy rose and spun simultaneously. Wreathes of light spun out of the main source, enlarging itself to shield Malfoy within itself. A streak of light lashed out at Tuckley, flashing a bright vermilion colour, as if in anger.

Lupin could have sworn that the streak of light had turned into a hand. It was now choking the light out of the man named Tuckley.

The screaming from Malfoy stopped. The light seemed to have a mind of its own. Seemingly satisfied with Malfoy's reaction, the intense light shot back from Tuckley before catapulting itself towards the other Aurors from the Ministry, expelling them from the house with a shattering of the window glass. The Aurors who still had enough sense left in them Apparated away as quickly as possible, frightened by this unknown force.

Slowly, the light's intensity faded. With the evanescence of the light, the figure within was laid on the floor with the utmost invisible care.

Tonks ventured forward cautiously to look at the face of the figure. Brushing the hair away, she found herself looking into the peaceful complexion of Hermione Granger.

Dumbledore approached the cowering boy, genuinely concerned for his physical and psychological health.

Seeing who it was, Draco felt both relieved and repulsed. He forced himself to be strong, thinking arrogantly that any pity or sympathy towards him was unnecessary.

"Are you here to accuse me of murder too?" he snapped, uncaring that he was regarding Albus Dumbledore with disrespect.

"Malfoy…" growled Moody, warningly, who had been repairing the exterior of the house and obliviating the minds of any Muggle witnesses in the vicinity.

Draco cocked his head towards Moody, his eyes glinting with displeasure at the memory of being transformed into a ferret as punishment in the fourth year. Of course, the Alastor Moody who had turned him into a ferret was not actually the man who was there that night, obliviating the minds of the neighboring Muggles.

"Murder, my dear boy?" asked Dumbledore, looking into Draco's slate-gray eyes.

At first, Draco resisted, suspicious of the Headmaster's motives. Finally, he swallowed his pride, and allowed Dumbledore the freedom to peer into his mind, realizing that his chances of maintaining his innocence would be greater if he allowed the Headmaster such valuable insight.

"Stop," he muttered angrily, tearing his eyes away when he felt that the Headmaster was probing his mind for information beyond that which he had first consented to giving. He moved away deliberately, taking the chance to look at the sleeping figure of Hermione.

"Did he?" asked Moody, shuffling closer to Dumbledore for a private debate.

"Did he what?" asked Dumbledore absent-mindedly.

"Murder."

"Of course not. Did you really think he would have?" asked Dumbledore skeptically.

"Never can tell with these kids," muttered Moody, suspiciously.

"Her eyelids are moving!" whispered Draco with anxiety and excitement.

The exuberant gray eyes of Draco Malfoy were the first things that Hermione saw. However, she was too drained to register the owner of those eyes, yet even in her fragile physical and mental state, she would still sense the immense gratitude being expressed in his eyes. She sighed contentedly, and laying her head back, shut her eyes.

**

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Well, I tried to make this chapter longer as one of you suggested. Let me know what you think by pressing the review button down in the left hand corner! **

**Thanks go to: **

**Samhaincat **

**Fain Oakenbringer**

**Angharad Marared Rhodri Gwynedd – by the way can I ask you what your name means?**


	4. Compassionate Men

**ANGELUS SOL SOLIS **

Chapter Four: Compassionate Men

The young mediwizard attached various saline drips and potions onto the body of the newest hospital patient. He had sandy colored hair that swept over his forehead, and his brown eyes looked perceptively into everything that he attended. He glanced suspiciously at the young teenager who sat silently by the bedside of the new arrival.

Posh robes, clean shoes, snarky air. The mediwizard knew instanteously that this wizard was the rich sort. Additionally, the haughty look that the teen maintained pointed to the obvious – that he was some pompous, snobbish palace brat. He had the looks for it too: a pale and pointed face, startling blue-gray eyes, and white-blond hair. If the supervisor had not informed him of this young man's circumstances, oh boy, the mediwizard sure would have kicked him right out of the ward by now.

The girl on the bed looked drained. The mass of ringlets had been saturated with sweat when she had been transported into the hospital. Her body temperature had been well over 40 degrees Celsius. The attending diagnostician had thought it unlikely that the girl would survive, given the high temperature. Yet although her burning body hinted at something, some illness, nothing was wrong. Medical tests had been run three times each to eliminate the most likely suspects for her illness. No meningitis, no hepatitis, no pneumonia, or bronchitis, no cancer, no leukemia. Nothing. The high fever indicated that her body was fighting off some kind of infection, the diagnostician had suggested that it would either be bacterial or viral. Well, thought the mediwizard, scoffing inwardly, anyone who had been to medical school could make _that_ diagnosis. The diagnostician had thus prescribed some treatments to cover the patient in case it turned out to be one of the most common bacterial or viral infections, and these were the treatments that the mediwizard was attaching to the patient now.

"What's wrong with her?" asked the boy quietly, interrupting the meditations that the mediwizard was making. He finished attaching the last potion drip to the arm of the sleeping patient, deliberately delaying the answer. Although he was on the diagnostic team, he himself was unsure of the problems that this girl had.

The mediwizard sighed deeply. He looked into the defiant eyes of the teenager, and saw resentment, as well as a deep compassion for the patient.

"I'm not going to lie to you. Our team of doctors and mediwizards… well, we don't actually know what's going on yet. One of the best doctors in the business, Dr Hannigan, is helping us figure a theory to explain your friend's symptoms."

"She's not my friend," Draco shot back quickly, scowling like he had scalded himself.

The mediwizard looked at him, slightly confused by what the boy had just said. If the boy wasn't her friend, then why the hell had he been hanging around the hospital ever since the girl had been admitted?

"We've been enemies since we were eleven," added Draco confidently.

"Right," said the mediwizard, rolling his eyes as he turned around, "that's why you've been looking so worried."

Draco glared at him angrily. The Australian accent of the mediwizard amused him, even though he did not show it. Australian accents had always been particularly amusing for Draco especially since the family had returned from a vacation down under a couple of years back, where he had visited the Great Reef and the Sydney Opera House, amongst other things.

Draco knew that the mediwizard thought that his behavior was queer. Admittedly, this was the case. He had just blurted that he was not a friend or even an acquaintance of Granger, and yet, as the mediwizard had observed correctly, Draco was here, waiting quietly by her bedside.

He would rather have died than be caught by anyone holding Granger's impure hand, even anyone that did not know him for what he truly was. Or even, if anyone knew what Granger truly was, for that matter. He was rather glad that she was unconscious to the fact that he had clasped his hands around hers every night so far. He kept reminding himself that she had saved him from being murdered by that maniac Tuckley, after all.

Draco quickly brushed aside his feelings of empathy, as he thought bitterly of how she would soon return to her friends. She would never accept him, not after what he had done after all those years. If she did become his friend, her return to _Saint Potter_ would force her to break ties with him anyway. Draco therefore did not see the point of keeping his hopes up. A dark cloud passed over his face as he thought about how he would be surrounded by a wide sea of loneliness, whilst she had the close comforts of loving friends.

- - + ---

Dumbledore walked quickly to the small inn that had opened in Diagon Alley. He sat down on a grimy table in the back of the room, where a small figure wearing a fine emerald robe sat. The figure was hooded, but he recognised the gleaming eyes within the darkness that concealed the face.

"We have decided that we will entrust his life to you," said the voice within quietly. "He will not like it, but it is for the best."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Have you any intention of discussing it with him?"

"We will… in our own way."

Dumbledore sipped pensively on his mug of Butterbeer. "You have heard the news, and of what Moody has planned?"

"The news is terrible. Yet striking."

Dumbledore nodded, glancing briefly around to check for unwanted listeners. He doubted that anyone would be able to decrypt the conversation anyway. It was pretty bland and uninformative to those who had no inclination of what was being discussed. Besides, they were talking in a particularly guarded manner.

"It is not good, which is why we are glad that the school will be opening soon."

There was a small beeping noise as a scrap of parchment materialised in front of Dumbledore's nose. Reading it hurriedly, he took out a few coins to pay for his Butterbeer, and said, "I must attend to urgent matters. Take care."

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**Thanks to the following reviewers:**

**samhaincat**

**Annie Mara**

**Fain Oakenbringer**

**Elena Bauder**

**Please review!  
**


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